Tales of a Supermodel Pt. 04

Tales of a Supermodel Part 4 - Milan Undone

Destiny sat in the limousine completely exhausted as she and Anya were driven back to their apartment. Her pussy ached and her mind was a whirlwind of confusion. Closing her biggest endorsement deal had left her excited, but she couldn't shake the feeling of dirtiness for what she had done to ensure the deal was finalized.

Destiny glanced over at Anya and noticed her staring blankly out of the window at the city skyline. They had just shared an incredibly intimate experience and Destiny was at a loss of words on how to address the situation. Both were concealing their emotions leaving an obvious silence in the limousine. However, Destiny needed answers, but she didn't even know how to begin.

Recognizing the situation, Anya dramatically turned to face Destiny. Their eyes finally locked as she gave a long pause before starting.

"I grew up in small village in Soviet Union," Anya began. "Only me and mother. We were very poor. Nyet money, nyet food. One day I am so hungry, I eat last food in house. My mother was so angry that she told me to leave the house. I was only five, can you imagine? I go to orphanage. There I stay until I turn eighteen. But when it was time leave the orphanage I had nowhere to go. No family, no home, nothing. I take small bag, few rubles for a train ride to Moscow, I think maybe I find a life there, but with no money, no skills, I had no options. Most girls turn to prostitution, but I say to myself, 'Nyet, Anya, not you.' I answered ads for modeling, but they all turned out to be for porno movies. It was hopeless, I had no options, I finally give up. I think, 'If this is life, I will do what I must.' I went to the next casting call ready to do a porno, but surprise, it was real modeling casting. It was for a famous Russian designer. I sat in the waiting room full of beautiful women, perfect hair, perfect clothes. Me? I look like peasant from kolkhoz, no portfolio. I don't know what I was thinking. When I was finally called into the casting room, they look at me like I am garbage. But there was one man that was in that room who smiled at me. He saw something in me and plucked me out of a future of despair."

"Mr. Greenstien," Destiny interjected.

"Da, yes. He was there. Everyone else laughed, but he... he looked at me different and he picked me. So instead of being a prostitute in Russia for little money, facing likely future washed up or dead, I was on a plane to America. I am now real model, real money, real life. I have real future. So when I was asked to make Mr. Greenstein happy, it was small comparison to what things I would have had to do in Russia. So yes, it was an easy choice."

Anya's story filled Destiny with sorrow, who held her hand in comfort.

"I'm sorry, that is so sad," Destiny consoled.

"My childhood was hard, but I'm lucky! I owe everything to Mr. Greenstein. There is nothing I won't do for him. Nothing" Anya said.

"But you're essentially a prostitute for him," Destiny countered.

"Honey, in this business, every model in a prostitute, including you. Difference is, luxury prostitutes. We meet millionaires, we can make millions ourselves, and we can gain power."

"It can't be like this." Destiny said in despair. "What if I say no? What if the next time, I decide not to do it?"

Anya looked straight in Destiny's eyes. "You can always say no, konyechno, many models have said no," Anya said.

"They have? Which ones?" Destiny inquired with hope.

"You don't know them. No one does. They never made it. They go back home, wait tables, maybe marry plumber," Anya said matter-of-factly.

Destiny understood the implication. Those that didn't conform weren't given the opportunities that the ones who did received.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore. I don't know how much I can take," Destiny said.

"You can." Anya encouraged. "You will, you are special. I do this for over five years, now. I'm older, I know my place, my limitations. I'm happy and have a good future. But you... you have no limits. You can be a superstar. You can make millions. You can get power."

"I'm not interested in power. This is not about power for me," Destiny replied as she lowered her eyes until she was staring at the limousine floor.

"This is all about power," Anya said as she tightened her grip on Destiny's hand to emphasize her point. "These men who want to fuck us. It's about power. What is more powerful than to fuck a supermodel? But one day, you will be above them. You will hold power, not them. That is what you must fight for. Power is what you must obtain."

Destiny gazed out the limousine window as it drove them back home, her thoughts churning. This can't be how it is, she wondered. Had she really become nothing more than a high priced whore?

In the months that followed, the answer began to take shape. The ad campaign had been a runaway success. She was now the face of a major brand. Car sales soared, and she had become a bankable name in the modeling world. It seemed her past actions had paid off.

As the summer gave way to fall, Milan Fashion Week was quickly approaching. It was one of the biggest events of the modeling calendar and Destiny was set to attend. Her star was rising faster than any model's in the past decade.

Milan is known as one of the world's great fashion capitals. Many of the top fashion labels were headquartered there. It offered endless opportunities for models, and during Milan Fashion Week, the demand for talent exploded.

The moment Destiny stepped off of the plane at Milan Malpensa Airport, she was whisked through the heart of the city. She was struck by how crowded and industrial the city felt, a sharp contrast to the romantic images she'd seen of Rome, Venice and Florence. Yet there was an undeniable energy in its busy streets. There was a sense of urgency and ambition that told her the work here could be pivotal for her career.

Destiny arrived at her hotel with a sigh of relief. The long trip had left her drained, and unlike her last visit to Paris, she wouldn't have to rush straight into work. The sight of the hotel gave her hope that she'd be able to get a few hours of rest.

The hotel was far more elegant than she expected, a world away from the cramped dormitory style apartments or budget hotels models were often assigned. When she was escorted through the grand reception room, into the elevators, and to the penthouse floor, curiosity began to stir. As the elevator doors slip open, her assistant led her down a short hallway toward a large door at its end. He paused, then tapped gently on the polished wood door.

Destany froze the moment the door opened. Standing there was Jacque, the man who stole her virginity during her first trip to Paris, with a broad grin on his face.

"Mon cherie," Jacque exclaimed, his voice brimming with excitement. He quickly stepped forward and enveloped Destiny with a warm embrace. She remained stiff in his arms as he kissed each of her cheeks, in turn Destiny forced a polite smile.

"Come, come," Jacque urged, gesturing her into the spacious penthouse suite.

"No, I shouldn't. I'm really tired from the long trip and really just need to rest," Destiny replied, doing her best to avoid stepping inside.

"You must see the boss," Jacque insisted, seizing her wrist and pulling her inside.

"My things..." Destiny protested, glancing back towards the hallway.

"Not to worry, they're being taken to your room. Come." Jacque's words were punctuated by the sight of her assistant carrying her luggage toward the elevator just as the door swung shut behind him.

Jacque pulled Destiny through the sprawling penthouse suite. It occupied nearly the entire top floor and felt larger than most homes. The sofas in the main living room were all perfectly arranged to show off the breathtaking view of the famed Duomo. It pulsed with energy as music played and several models danced wildly. A few were topless, swaying with reckless abandon, likely drunk or high. At the very center of it all was Jerald.

Jerald was a bear of a man, broad, imposing and unmistakably French, with a body cloaked in hair. A rough 5 o 'lock shadow darkened his jaw, while his thick black chest hair spilled through the gap between his half-buttoned designer shirt. Gold chains dangled from his neck, nearly lost in the dark forest of chest hair.

In the modeling world, his name carried weight. He was one of the most powerful and feared figures in the industry. He was Europe's answer to Mr. Weinstein and he wore that power like armor. Confidence radiated from him, an aura that filled the room as much as the pounding music. He was seated on the main sofa with a stunning blonde model to his right. Without hesitation, he bent forward, and snorted a line of cocaine. The effects caused him to toss his head back with a satisfied shudder. After regrouping from the euphoria of the drug, he slid the mirror toward the girl beside him. The model's eyes widened with fear.

"No Thanks," she said as she shook her head. Her petite, trembling voice was almost lost beneath the loud music.

Jerald expression darkened and his demeanor shifted. "Is there a problem? Are you going to play ball?"

"I'm sorry, I can't," she whispered, on the verge of tears.

"Go," Jerald said with a dismissive flick of his hand.

The girl slinked off of the couch, her shoulders hunched, and slipped quietly back towards the cluster of models.

Jerald rose to his feet and finished his thought loud enough for Destiny to hear. "What a shame, she had potential," he said, his tone pointed toward Jacque but clearly meant as a warning.

The message landed. Destiny understood at once that the poor girl's career had just been derailed, and Jerald wanted her to know it. His intent was clear, and brutally effective.

Just as quickly, Jerald's demeanor changed and a broad smile spread across his face as his eyes fixed on Destiny.

"Destiny," Jerald boomed, while leaning in to plant the customary two kisses on her cheeks.

Destiny smiled in return, accepting the affection, while her guard never lowered. Beneath her composure, her nerves coiled tight. She was acutely aware of the power he wielded over the industry, and by extension, over her career.

"Let me see you," Jerald said, taking her hand and lifting it before twisting his wrist a clear gesture for her to turn.

Destiny complied, performing the almost ritualistic pirouette, the strange dance models seemed to be expected to display before powerful men.

"Magnifique," Jerald declared, before he dropped onto the sofa, patting the cushion beside him. "Sit, sit," he urged.

Destiny lowered herself into the seat with measured hesitation, her smile fixed in place like armor. Beneath it, her nerves remained taut, every muscle on edge in his presence.

"Jacque has told me so much about you," Jerald began.

Destiny glanced over towards Jacque, who had settled into a chair across from them. He was smiling, though the meaning behind it was impossible for her to read

"When I paired the two of you for that photo shoot, I knew you two would hit it off. And of course I was right," Jerald continued.

Destiny couldn't tell whether Jerald was referring to the photoshoot and the photographs themselves, or what happened before them.

"Thank you, I was very pleased with how the photos turned out," Destiny replied, keeping her tone professional. Her words carried a subtle meaning, probing for clarity behind his flattery.

Jerald simply flashed a knowing grin, offering Destiny nothing more.

"So," Jerald said, leaning back casually, "how was your flight?"

"It was loooong," Destiny replied with a tired smile, "I'm pretty wiped out." She hoped he'd take the hint and let her head to her room to rest.

"Well we have a full slate for you while you're here," Jerald countered. He reached over and grabbed a large mirrored tray with generous lines of white powder waiting on its surface. He held it out with a smirk. "Here, this'll perk you right up."

Destiny hesitated. She'd never tried cocaine before, but she knew exactly what was being offered. On the mirrored tray were several neat white lines, perfectly arranged, with a rolled up Lira bill resting beside them, the evening's chosen straw.

"I... I don't know," Destiny said uncertainly, her voice trailing off.

"Are you gonna play ball?" Jacque asked, his hard stare fixed on her, his tone turning cold.

It was the same chilling question he'd thrown at the other model only moments earlier. Destiny understood exactly what would happen if she refused. Her hands trembled as she picked up the rolled Lira and held it to her nose, lowering her head toward the mirror. She hesitated, drawing in a deep breath as the weight of the decision pressed down on her. She'd never done drugs, ever, and the thought of trying them here, in this charged atmosphere, with no friends around, terrified her. But feeling cornered, she angled the makeshift straw toward the powder and inhaled.

The effect was instantaneous. A sharp rush slammed through her senses, shooting straight to her head. Her heart kicked into overdrive and her pupils widened as a surge of energy flooded her system. She jerked her head up, trying to steady herself as lightheadedness washed over her. A bitter, chemical taste dripped down the back of her throat, making her grimace. She shook her head, struggling to regain her composure, while Jerald and Jacque burst into laughter at her reaction.

"Atta girl," Jerald encouraged with a grin. "Go on, have another."

Destiny hesitated for a beat, then lifted the rolled Lira to her other nostril, mimicking scenes she'd watched in movies. Despite her earlier fear, the euphoria buzzing through her veins was already pulling her back for more. Energized and flushed with excitement, she leaned down and inhaled a second line.

The rush hit just as hard as the first, and this time she exhaled sharply, laughing breathlessly. "Woooo!" she chirped. Her head began spinning as if the room seemed to pulse around her.

Jerald pressed a drink into her hand. She took a huge gulp, only to cough as the fiery Cognac scorched its way down her throat. She wasn't used to drinking, she wasn't even twenty-one, so the sudden hit of hard liquor caught her off guard. They weren't going easy on her tonight.

The men once again burst into laughter and the tension in the roomed seemed to ease. Destiny felt a flicker of confidence. Maybe "playing ball" was working. She let herself breathe for the first time that night, taking in her surroundings more fully.

The music seemed louder now, crisper, almost electric. Strobe lights flashed across the room as models danced in a haze of energy. The scene reminded her of a wild and glamourous discotheque. The suite was slightly unreal to her, and for a moment, she loosened her guard. The drug was doing exactly what it was meant to do, freeing her mind.

Jerald watched Destiny from his seat, his eyes narrowing slightly as if assessing new prey. He opened a cedar box, selected a cigar, and clipped the end. He placed it between his lips, struck a match, and drew in deeply. Thick curls of smoke rolled from his mouth as he savored the taste of the expensive Cuban, never taking his gaze off of Destiny.

"Why don't you head down to your room," Jerald said between slow puffs of his cigar, smoke curling lazily into the air.

"OK," Destiny replied, a bit surprised that he was letting her go so easily without any further incident.

Jerald rose and pulled her into a hug. Destiny went along with it, as his bulking body engulfed her. His hand slid downward, brazenly grabbing her ass and giving it a firm squeeze. Destiny jolted at the contact and instinctively pulled back. Pretending everything was fine, she flashed a practiced smile.

Jerald released Destiny and a faint snicker slipped out as he returned to the couch. As she walked away, he following the sway of her hips, openly admiring her perfect ass.

Destiny walked toward the exit, where her assistant was waiting to escort her down to her room.

"Right this way," her assistant said. Destiny followed him to her hotel room located several floors down.

"This one is yours," he said, handing Destiny the room key. "I'll be back to pick you up in the morning."

Destiny thanked him before slipping the key into the lock and turning it. She opened the door and stepped inside. The room was modest but elegant, with her luggage neatly tucked away in the small closet. Then she froze. Laid out carefully across the bed was a piece of black lingerie. It was sheer, skimpy, and impossible to miss.

"You've got to be kidding me," Destiny muttered under her breath as she walked to the foot of the bed. She lifted the outfit and held it up against the light. It almost left nothing to the imagination. The so called "gift" struck her as both odd and deeply inappropriate. Paired with Jerald's earlier ass grab, the implication behind the gesture sent a chill through her and a nervous knot tightened in her stomach.

She pushed aside the unsettling thoughts and busied herself by exploring the room and unpacking her suitcase. The bed looked soft and inviting, so she decided to stretch out on it. She expected to fall asleep immediately, but the cocaine coursing through her system had other plans. Her mind buzzed, as she lay staring at the ceiling as the same unsettling thoughts she'd tried to ignore began to spin through her head again.

After some time, she heard a faint rustling at her door. Before she could act, the lock clicked and the door swung open. There stood Jerald, clearly drunk, entering her room unannounced. Destiny jumped up off the bed as she wasn't sure who it was at first, but once she saw her unease didn't dissipate, it deepened.

"How did you get in?" Destiny asked, stunned and nervous.

"I've got a key," Jerald responded, holding up the key with a smug grin. He strolled in like he owned the place, his eyes landed on the lingerie still laid at on the foot of the bed. "So, what do you think?"

"It's... nice," Destiny replied, forcing a smile. She was still reeling from the situation.

"Good," Jerald said smoothly, "Go on, try it on."

"Oh no... that's ok," Destiny responded quickly, hoping to deflect.

"I wasn't asking," Jerald said flatly, his tone sharp and commanding. His expression hardened in an instant. The easy charm from earlier was now gone.

Destiny hesitated for only a heartbeat before she darted toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Her heart pounded, half expecting him to follow, terrified he might instead demand she change in front of him.

Destiny stood in the cramped bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her head was still spinning from the cocaine and alcohol, her pulse still racing. She knew she was standing at yet another crossroad. She'd come too far to let anything jeopardize her career now, but she couldn't see any way out. Naively, she clung to the hope that all Jerald wanted was to see her in the lingerie.

With shaky hands, she stripped off her clothes and slipped into the outfit. The moment she looking at herself in the mirror, a wave of anxiety washed over her. The lingerie revealed everything. Her nipples were clearly visible through the sheer fabric, her stomach was completely bare, and the garter belts clinging to her thighs made her feel slutty. But what made her stomach sink was the thong. It was also sheer and through it she could clearly see not only the pale strip of blonde pubic hair, but her pussy lips.

Dread settled over her. She had already taken longer than she should have, and the last thing she wanted to do was test Jerald's patience. As she moved toward the door, she took one last look in the mirror. She saw her ass fully on display, nothing but a thin strip of fabric disappeared between her cheeks. Her throat tightened, not knowing what awaited her on the other side of the door.